


summertime blues

by friday



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M, embarrassing old fic from 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2093811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friday/pseuds/friday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jinki's summer job is nothing to write home about, but the new boy at work might be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	summertime blues

Jinki takes people's arcades tickets and exchanges them for prizes and gets paid two dollars more than minimum wage per hour for it. It's not so bad as far as mindless summer jobs go, especially considering it's also what Kibum gets paid, and Kibum has a decidedly harder job than he.

"Only you would think operating a ferris wheel is difficult," Kibum had said, sighing. To be fair, Jinki used to make cotton candy, before a truly unfortunate accident involving an eight-year-old's balloon and blue raspberry cotton candy. It was a wonder he wasn't fired, but Jinki suspected the fact that he was his supervisor's calculus tutor during the school year probably played a part in it.

So now Jinki stands behind a counter in a dimly-lit air-conditioned arcade and takes tickets from children and gives them plastic spider rings and superhero temporary tattoos in exchange. It's not quite the museum internship he was hoping to have, but you take what you can get.

Jinki was doing his best to make the dresses of the princesses in a coloring book (ten tickets) as historically correct as he possibly could with a pack of miniature pastel colored pencils (20 tickets) when his supervisor called his name, making him jump.

"Uh yes?" he said, hurriedly shoving the coloring book and colored pencils under the counter. "Sorry, what?"

Jonghyun cast a suspicious eye on him, but didn't say anything. "This is Lee Taemin," he said, and gestured to a boy standing just behind him. "He'll be working here from today on. Show him the ropes, will you?"

"Yessir." Lee Taemin was young, at least three years younger than Jinki, and had an earnest look about him.

"Hi!" he said brightly, and stuck out his hand. Jonghyun seemed assured that Jinki would be able to handle this and retreated into the supervisor lounge at the back of the arcade, where Jinki suspected he was either running a lucrative marijuana dealing business or napping when he was supposed to be supervising (not, Jinki supposed, that that was a particularly difficult responsibility).

"Uh, hi," Jinki said in hesitant reply, a little blinded by the earnestness. "I'm Jinki." He gestured around himself helplessly. "Uh. We take tickets and exchange them for prizes. Sometimes we fix machines if they break down. If we can't fix them, we call in the tech guy." He shrugged. There really wasn't much to it. "This job is pretty self-explanatory. Lunch at 12:30, shift ends at 4."

"Oh." Taemin seemed to deflate a little when he realized there wasn’t any more coming. "Okay." He sat down next to Jinki and set his chin on his hand. There was still an air of disappointment around him, but he seemed to resign himself to his fate.

Jinki sat down next to him, awkwardly wondering if it was acceptable this early in their acquaintance to pull out the coloring book. He decided against it, but as the minutes ticked on, the coloring book started looking more and more appealing by the second. Then he wondered if ten minutes was within the polite timeframe to wait to start up a conversation or if Taemin probably already thought he was an antisocial weirdo who only had this job so he could creep on children. He snuck glances at Taemin, wondering if he noticed the internal struggle occurring just a foot away. Taemin, who was reading the back of a beginner's origami kit, looking determined to stay enthusiastic, didn't seem to.

"So," Jinki finally choked out, and had to clear his throat before repeating himself. Taemin jumped at the sound and dropped the origami box guiltily. "So. Are you - are you from around here?

Taemin nodded. "Yup! Just out the city!" he answered, and then looked torn as to whether he should elaborate further or ask Jinki the same.

Jinki who had poured all his courage into that one question, nodded mutely and looked away, effectively ending the conversation. Of course, he regretted it immediately.

The silence between them grew more and more pronounced, and just as he thought he was going to explode from the monotony (exactly two people had come up to exchange their tickets—one was a six-year-old who was about fifty tickets short for the small stuffed animal she wanted but Jinki had just given it to her anyway), Kibum arrived, a savior in their purple work uniform.

"Lunch time," he demanded, and then caught sight of Taemin. "Oh, hello. Sorry. Are you new?" Kibum was hilarious when meeting new people—his scowl immediately turned charming, his brow un-furrowed. It was quite a process. Jinki watched, amused and automatically feeling more comfortable with Kibum around.

By the looks of it, Taemin did too. He nodded, and stuck out his hand. "I'm Lee Taemin! Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Kibum smiled, and Jinki was reminded, again, just how incredibly pleasant Kibum could be when he put his mind to it. "I'm Kim Kibum. Would you like to get lunch with us?"

Taemin looked eager but uncertain. "Er, I mean, if you don't mind," he said, looking like he would like nothing more than if they didn't mind. Jinki could _hear_ Kibum's heart melting.

"Of course not! Crepes okay?"

It was hard not to like Taemin when he beamed like that. Kibum managed to wrangle out of Taemin that he was an incoming first year student at their university, planning on studying biology, liked to dance and ride bikes, had an older cousin he was staying with before dorms opened, and preferred cupcakes to cakes.

"I'm an economics and performance arts double major," Kibum said. He'd almost wet himself with excitement when Taemin had said he liked to dance; Kibum was head of the dance team at school. He elbowed Jinki, who kind of stumbled. "Jinki's a history and math double major. We share an apartment together, about a block from the university. You're welcome to visit anytime!"

"Uh right," Jinki added, trying to make up for their dismal morning together. "Anytime. So, uh, how do you like the job?"

Taemin made a face, then seemed to think better of it and smiled sheepishly. "I mean, it's okay. Kind of boring—no offense—but, well. I needed something to do, and it was pretty cool of Jonghyun to give me the job so short notice. My cousin tutors him in physics," he added, heading off Jinki's question.

"Huh," Kibum said, and Jinki didn't need to look at him to know Kibum was smirking. Kibum and Jonghyun had a hilarious friendship - Jonghyun sold Kibum weed for next to nothing and Kibum made fun of Jonghyun mercilessly. Jinki wasn’t too sure how it worked, but he didn’t like to ask.

The amusement park was small enough that it probably only would’ve taken half an hour to walk from one end to the other uninterrupted. The majority of their business, from what Jinki noted, came from children 12 and under and their families, and desperately awkward teenagers on their first dates. The crepe truck had prime amusement park real estate location—it was more or less right in the center, next to the merry-go-round. "Minho's crepes are the only edible things here," Jinki explained, waving to Minho as they neared.

"Thanks," Minho said, smiling. "The usual, Kibum? You too, Jinki? And who's this?" he asked, nodding at Taemin, who looked a little apprehensive—not, Jinki supposed, that he could blame him. Minho was easily six feet and looked like he modeled in his spare time (he did, technically—his swimsuit feature in the soccer calendar had earned the team more money than all their other fundraising activities put together).

Jinki and Kibum chorused their thanks, then Kibum pulled Taemin forward. "This is Taemin," he said. "He'll be starting at the university this fall. Taemin, this is Minho. Don't be fooled by his face, he owns a kitten."

Taemin, who was looking rather alarmed, relaxed. "I love cats!" he told Minho enthusiastically. "And I'd like a vegetarian crepe, please."

 

 

 

 

"It was really nice of you to take me to lunch," Taemin tells Jinki later, back behind the counter. "I was worried I'd hate this job or have no friends or something."

"Oh, I mean—it was all Kibum," Jinki answered, waving it off. He also wondered how it could be possible for anyone to not want to be friends with Taemin. "And no worries—I’m sure you'll learn to hate it. Most sane people do."

Taemin laughed at that, surprised and sweet. He shrugged, spreading his hands out before him. "I mean, it hasn't been so bad so far.”

Their afternoon passes much less awkwardly than their morning did (though still with a fair number of silences) and, by the end of their shift, Jinki was waved a cheerful goodbye to Taemin before he walked off to the ferris wheel to pick up Kibum.

"Hey," he said, leaning on Kibum's control panel as Kibum puttered around, locking up. "So—Taemin's pretty nice, isn't he?"

Kibum whipped his head around to look at Jinki so fast, _Jinki_ almost got whiplash.

"You think he's cute!" Kibum shouted accusingly.

A couple, which had somehow managed to ignore all of Jonghyun’s last-call announcements, walked by, shooting them a quizzical look. Jinki wanted to die.

"No!" he whispered back fiercely. Kibum fixed him with a look. "I mean, okay, _fine_. But only a little!"

Kibum looked positively gleeful. When they met people, people usually assumed Kibum was gay—a performance arts major ("And economics! Mostly economics!" Kibum always added, indignant) with an eclectic, though impeccable, sense of fashion, Kibum's tendency for the dramatics didn't go unnoticed either. No one usually suspected Jinki, who was quiet and bookish and got really excited about medieval times and fractals. Kibum was always trying to set Jinki up with his theatre friends, though they usually a) scared Jinki or b) spent their dates pining after Kibum. Jinki had some vague fantasies of meeting a nice, maybe pre-med, student who wore glasses and swam sometimes and enjoyed books but didn't have the time to read them.

Instead, he usually had sex with self-loathing men who treated him neither particularly well nor particularly poorly. Once it had been his intro philosophy professor, which was kind of exciting but ultimately ended up not being too much different from the guys who played basketball or soccer, did kegstands on Wednesday nights and ended up hooking up with girls right in front of Jinki.

"This is excellent," Kibum said. Jinki wouldn't have been surprised if he started to rub his hands together gleefully. "Don't worry, Jinki. I'll find out for you."

"That is _actually_ the last thing I want you to do," Jinki replied, after sputtering for a bit. Kibum looked crushed. Jinki felt bad, but he had his dignity to maintain.

 

 

 

 

Thursday morning hit Jinki like a sixty kilogram twenty-year old. "Unchf," he managed to get out from beneath Kibum.

"I was thinking," Kibum said loudly, ignoring Jinki as he recounted his life's best memories and mentally rewrote his will to entirely exclude Kibum. "You should get Taemin's number today."

"This is entirely inappropriate for so early in the morning," Jinki wheezed. "Also, I _just_ met him. Also—seriously, Kibum. Get off."

Kibum slid off Jinki's stomach, looking apologetic. "Sorry," he said. "It's just, you never like nice people. And Taemin is _so_ nice. He's cute too," he added, as if Jinki didn't know

"I'll figure it out," Jinki said evasively, and rubbed his midsection. "Ow, Jesus, I think you cracked a rib. You owe me breakfast." Breakfast consisted of three carrots, a glass of milk, and Kibum’s ardent but fruitless attempts to convince Jinki to get Taemin’s number. Somehow, Jinki is late to work.

Taemin was already there and humming when Jinki snuck in, late but trying to avoid Jonghyun, who always breathed angrily for a little before grudgingly letting him go. Those few seconds always made Jinki feel guilty, somehow; Kibum said it was because Jinki was a sucker for idiots and Jonghyun was an idiot of the highest degree. Jinki privately had some doubts as to the truthfulness of this theory, but the guilt still stood.

"Hi," Taemin said brightly, fingers deft as he folded an origami crane. Jinki made a mental note to never tell Kibum Taemin did origami. Kibum would probably lunge across the counter and kiss him _for_ Jinki.

“Morning,” he said, dropping into the seat next to Taemin.

“Rough morning?” Taemin asked, and the combination of the choice of words and an airy tone that didn’t seem quite genuine, made Jinki look up. Taemin, however, was busy smoothing down the wings of his crane and Jinki decided he must’ve imagined it.

“Something like that,” Jinki said, laughing. “Kibum came hurtling at me like a small water bull this morning to wake me up.”

Taemin snickered at that. “Are you two—” he started to ask before stopping, looking embarrassed to have said anything at all.

“Oh God no.” Jinki thought about it, then shuddered. “Oh _God_ no. Kibum’s my best friend. He’s also, well, he’s _mostly_ straight.” Kibum had made out with enough of his theatre friends when supposedly drunk that, despite his very female relationship track record, Jinki was doubtful. Also, Jinki was starting to suspect that Kibum and Jonghyun’s strange relationship was, in fact, despite Kibum’s protestations, a courtship of sorts. “I’m—well, he’s not really my type.”

“Oh, I see,” Taemin said, then went back to his crane. He tore another sheet out of his notebook when he was done with the first, then set about making what looked like a squirrel.

“How—how about you?” Jinki finally managed to ask as Taemin was folding the tail. Kibum would be so proud of him, he thought fervently. He had been more assertive with that one sentence than he possibly had his entire college career thus far.

Taemin shrugged, his shoulder almost touching his chin in one fluid motion. “No boyfriend,” he said simply, and didn’t elaborate further. It was, Jinki supposed, answer enough.

“Huh,” he said, trying (and probably failing) to sound nonchalant.

He was saved from trying to think of something further to say by the arrival of a group of third-graders on what seemed to be their final class trip of their year. One little girl was particularly taken with Taemin, and stayed behind while her classmates ran off to watch the squirrel slowly forming in Taemin’s hands. She clapped when he was done, and blushed furiously when he offered it to her, all sweetness and sincerity.

“That was nice,” Jinki said, watching her go.

Taemin stole a quick glance at him, as if to make sure he wasn’t kidding. “Thanks,” he replied, smiling. “I’ve got a little cousin back home, around her age.”

“Ah,” Jinki said wisely. He was (again) saved the trouble of thinking of something more complex and interesting to say by a group of third-graders clamoring to exchange their handfuls of tickets for prizes, which kept the two of them busy for the rest of the morning. During a pause in the activity, Jinki whipped out his phone to hurriedly text Kibum _He is!_ Kibum texted back what looked like every single character his phone knew how to make, followed by twelve exclamation marks and a smiley face. Ten minutes later he texted, _GET HIS NUMBER YOU FOOL_. When Jinki didn’t respond, Kibum added, _NOW_.

 _I’m working on it!!!!!!_ Jinki texted back. Kibum texted back what looked like every happy emoticon his phone was capable of making, plus a few that looked as if he’d made them up himself.

Taemin hung around awkwardly as Jinki got ready for lunch, as if he wasn’t sure if he could follow him or not.

“Um,” Jinki finally said, turning around to face him. “Are you coming?”

Taemin beamed in response, as if that was what he’d been waiting the entire day to hear.

 

 

 

 

Jinki and Kibum both had Fridays off, so Thursday nights were deemed their night to cut loose, better known as “drink wine and tequila until you vomit” night. It was disgusting, but Kibum had made a very impassioned speech the first time Jinki had refused about how it was their last chance to do this, how it was their _duty_ to get as wasted as possible, it’s not like they could do this during the school year (a blatantly false statement, Kibum probably had a permanent BAC of 0.1 at any given moment and yet still maintained a 3.8 GPA; it was wildly unfair, except that Jinki’s liver probably liked him much more than Kibum’s liver him). It was best not to argue with Kibum when he was on a roll, so Jinki found himself a third of a bottle of wine and three shots of vodka-deep just before midnight at the bar near their apartment when he got a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?” he said when he picked up, trying his best not to roll his eyes as Kibum waggled his eyebrows at him. He had an arm around the waist of a girl Jinki thought might’ve been named Nicole and might’ve been in his intro sociology class his sophomore year, though she did look disturbingly similar to her friend, who had just tried to hit on Jinki a few minutes ago. Jinki had just stared at her, mouth agape, until Kibum whispered something to Nicole, who uttered a soft “oh!” and passed the message along to her friend. Her friend had giggled, patted Jinki on the cheek and disappeared, leaving a cloud of sweet perfume. Kibum had looked vaguely impressed; Jinki was still terribly confused.

“Um, hi,” was the slightly breathless reply. “It’s Taemin. Er, from work,” Taemin hurried to add when Jinki didn’t answer.

“Oh,” Jinki said blankly. _It’s Taemin_ , he mouthed at Kibum, and then laughed sheepishly along with him when he realized he’d said it aloud.

“Oh!” Taemin said over the phone, sounding embarrassed. “Oh no, I’m sorry, you’re out with your friends. Sorry—I just—anyway, it’s not important, I’ll let you get back to—”

“No! I mean, no. Listen, it’s okay. Okay, wait, wait, stop.” Jinki stood up, pulling himself together, and headed for the entrance of the bar. He stepped on some guy’s foot by accident, but as his tongue was currently shoved down some girl’s throat, Jinki didn’t bother apologizing. Outside, the cool summer air cleared his head a little, and he pressed his phone to his ear again. “Hello?”

“Hi,” was the immediate reply. “Sorry. No, look, seriously—”

“Stop,” Jinki said firmly, and Taemin stopped. “What’s up?”

Taemin dithered for a second, before bursting out with, “I’m really sorry. I know I don’t know you that well but I don’t know too many people here. My cousin’s away until Sunday and I think I’ve lost my key. Could I crash on yours and Kibum’s couch for a few nights? That’s all, I promise, you won’t even notice I’m there.”

Jinki, still drunk but quickly sobering up, pulls himself together enough to say, “Of course. Not even a question, and don’t worry about it. Where are you?”

“Thank you so much.” The relief in Taemin’s voice is so palpable Jinki would’ve done it a thousand times over. “I’m, well, where are you? I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

“Are you sure?” Jinki would’ve pushed the issue further, but he still wasn’t completely sober. Best to not try too hard to act the hero and then end up embarrassing himself. “I’m at Pier 45, if you know where that is?”

“Um, is that the one near campus? On 32nd street?”

“Yes! I’ll, well, I’ll be outside. I’m wearing blue,” he added lamely.

Taemin laughed at that. “I know what you look like,” he said, tone amused. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Thank you so, _so_ much, really.”

Jinki hadn’t quite formed the words _no problem_ yet when Taemin hangs up. He concentrates instead on sending a text to Kibum, feeling rather than hearing the music pounding inside the club. _Taemin got locked out, I told him he could stay with us for the weekend, hope that’s okay?_

Kibum’s reply was quick enough that Jinki knew he’s probably not taking Nicole home with him tonight. _ya4y!! of course it’s okaY! excited!!, should I find smwhre to stay 2night?? ;)_

Jinki’s reply was almost instantaneous this time. _NO. I WILL KILL YOU._

They texted back and forth a few more times, before Kibum’s texts reached a level of incoherency that even Jinki couldn’t decipher. He let Kibum go back to joyfully drinking himself into a vodka-induced oblivion, and went across the street to the gas station to buy a pack of jellybeans. _For strength_ , he told himself as he paid.

It seemed like no time—surely not the fifteen minutes Taemin had said—before Taemin jogged down the street, head swiveling as he looked for Jinki.

“Taemin!” Jinki called from his position on the steps and promptly choked on the jellybean he had been chewing. He was still coughing as Taemin drew nearer.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, a little out of breath. “Thank you so much again. Oh—” he said, noticing Jinki’s coughing fit. His expression turned immediately to worry. “Are you alright?”

Jinki coughed a final time before looking up. “Yes,” he wheezed. “Sorry.” He stood up, arms swinging awkwardly. “Er. Would you like a jellybean?”

Taemin blinked, tearing his gaze away from Jinki’s face. “I’m sorry, what? Oh! A jellybean. Um, sure, thank you.” He took one, chewing on it politely.

 _Why am I so bad at this_ , Jinki thought, a little miserably, and clutched the bag of jellybeans tighter. “Do you want to go in?” he asked, gesturing towards the bar entrance. “It’s still pretty early. I mean, unless you want to come home with me now—I mean, not in that way, just—”

Taemin cut him off, sparing him. “Yeah, sure,” he said firmly, almost sounding as if he had something to prove. “I would like that very much, thank you.”

 

 

 

 

Taemin, who had looked a little overwhelmed as he stepped into the bar, was currently taking a double shot of vodka under Kibum’s delighted guidance. He finished, made a face, and held out his arm, where he was currently keeping tally. Jinki watched in confused amazement as Kibum marked two wobbly tally marks with an eyeliner pencil Nicole had apparently lent him, bringing the total up to seven.

“Er, are you feeling alright?” Jinki murmured, as Taemin collapsed on the couch next to him with a _whump_.

Taemin looked at him, raising his chin defiantly. “Of course I am.” His speech was amazingly clear for someone who’d just downed seven shots of extremely shitty vodka in half an hour. “I’m going to go dance.” He got up, using Jinki’s knee to steady himself. It took him a second, but he managed to point himself in the right direction and saunter off, though not without a bit of a stumble.

Kibum slid into the seat Taemin had just occupied, throwing an arm around Jinki’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” he more or less shouted, and Jinki jumped, sloshing his drink on himself. “This is your chance!”

Jinki found himself pushed out of his seat and propelled in the general direction Taemin had gone in. He threw a terrified look back at Kibum, who had immediately filled his seat with a pretty girl Jinki recognized as Nicole’s friend, the girl who’d hit on him earlier. He was very determinedly not looking at Jinki. Jinki looked down at his half-full glass, in the general direction of the dance floor, and back again at his glass. He threw back the drink, shuddering as the alcohol hit the back of his throat. As he set the glass down on the table, Kibum let out a triumphant cheer.

A little heartened, Jinki edged around the perimeter of the crowd until he saw a slim hand pushing back a mess of dyed red hair. Buzzing with alcohol and adrenaline, he made a beeline for Taemin who was, thankfully, gloriously alone, though not for much longer if the slightly predatory looks on the faces of both the guy and the pair of girls nearest him were any indication.

Taemin hadn’t been kidding when he said he liked to dance—sensuous and fluid, Taemin danced with the kind of grace that came with years of training and a healthy reserve of natural talent and passion. Kibum would be absolutely _delighted_. Jinki had a pretty good ear for rhythm, and was definitely better at dancing than your average college-aged male, but he felt that if he were to dance next to Taemin, he might as well have just imitated an overweight duck with too-small feet and save himself the shame.

“Hi,” Taemin half-shouted at him when he neared. He sounded mostly lucid and Jinki would’ve believed it too, if Taemin hadn’t sort of stumbled forward, grabbing Jinki’s elbow to steady himself. “Sorry,” he said, giggling into the front of Jinki’s shirt. His other hand, the one not holding Jinki’s elbow, crept its way somehow to Jinki’s waist. Jinki just stood there, confused and terribly tempted, and Taemin seemed to take this as encouragement. In one fluid moment, he’d managed to wind both arms around Jinki’s neck, looking Jinki in the eyes. It was the look in his eyes that worried Jinki the most—determined and challenging, Taemin’s mouth was only a breath away from Jinki’s when Jinki took a small step back, letting the arms around his neck fall.

Taemin’s mouth twisted in disappointment, and he half-turned away, half-looked at the floor. Jinki looked at Taemin’s downturned head, still feeling his damp forehead pressed against his shoulder. At this moment, it could have been so easy—Taemin wouldn’t have needed any encouragement, Jinki knew. Jinki wouldn’t even have needed to be anyone special, by the way Taemin’s fingers were again circling Jinki’s wrists, sly but desperate. It was this thought that sobered him the most for some reason, and he gently took hold of Taemin’s shoulders.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” he said in what he hoped was the least offensive way possible, leaning in close so Taemin would hear him. “I’m going to bring you home.” He couldn’t resist trailing a hand down Taemin’s arm though, taking advantage of the fact that Taemin was wearing nothing more than a thin tank top, having shed his sweater somewhere.

Taemin’s mouth was set in a petulant line when he looked up, but didn’t protest when Jinki took hold of his elbow, steering him out of the crowd. Kibum waggled his eyebrows wildly when Jinki passed him to grab Taemin’s sweater, Taemin in tow, but Jinki didn’t even look at him. One part of him was wildly disappointed, the part that wanted to disappear back into the crowd with Taemin, and then something undetermined but definitely involving slick mouths, hands, and hips. The other part was tired and vaguely turned on but worried. This was the part that was very good at stopping Kibum right before he crossed the line into blackout territory, often carting him home at obscene hours of the morning, regardless of whether he’d met anyone or not.

The trip home was a quiet one, interrupted only by Taemin’s apologies when he stumbled, or Jinki’s periodic questions of _how are you feeling?_ to which Taemin only sighed and replied, _fine, I’m fine, thanks_.

Home was, thankfully, only a few blocks away. Taemin groaned when Jinki apologetically told him their apartment was on the fourth floor and that the elevator was down for maintenance. It dispelled a little of the strange mood surrounding them, and the trek upstairs wasn’t quite as awkward as the walk home.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Jinki said when they stepped into the apartment, kicking off their shoes. Jinki and Kibum’s apartment was reasonably sized and comfortable, even if their kitchen was a little too small for either of their comfort. Most of the furnishings—the futon, the small TV, the armchair—belonged to Jinki, but it was Kibum’s decorations that gave the apartment personality. Jinki was grateful the apartment was relatively clean—Jinki wasn’t too messy, and Kibum went through periods of extreme disarray and then spent a week organizing and dusting furiously. A few months ago, Jinki had come home to Kibum on his knees, scrubbing the underside of the toilet. “Do you want anything to drink? Water? Juice? If you want to throw up, the bathroom’s that way,” he added helpfully, correctly guessing why Taemin wasn’t speaking much.

“Thanks,” Taemin said, and even Jinki had to admire his dignity as he walked, not ran, to the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later, face dripping wet but looking much better. “Can you throw me my sweater?”

Jinki obliged, and Taemin pulled a toothbrush still in its plastic case out of the pocket. Jinki laughed at that, and Taemin looked up at the sound. “Thought it’d come in handy,” he said wryly. He closed the door after him, and Jinki soon heard the sound of running water.

He poured himself a glass of water, swishing the water around in his mouth. He wasn’t anywhere near as drunk as Taemin had been—whereas being drunk made Kibum even more exuberant and excited about things, Jinki just felt loose-limbed and sort of as if his head didn’t quite belong to his body. It was fun at times, but Jinki found himself liking it less and less, probably because their weekend routine was so predictable. Or maybe Jinki was just bitter because he hadn’t been laid in a while. This was Kibum’s theory, and had more than just a grain of truth to it.

He was pulling out the futon when Taemin stepped out of the bathroom again. He dragged out the afghan Kibum had brought back with him when he studied abroad in Thailand, and pointed at their only throw pillow. “Sorry, we don’t have any spare pillows, but you can use that.”

“Oh no,” Taemin said, “this is more than enough. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough. I promise I’ll be gone by Sunday.”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Jinki said. “Seriously, stop thanking me. Anyone would do the same for a friend.” Then, a thought occurred to him and he frowned—“actually, wait, how did you get my number? I don’t think I’ve given it to you.”

To his surprise, Taemin flushed a deep red, and pulled at the hem of his tank top for a bit before mumbling something that sounded like, “I had Jonghyun’s number and I don’t know him that well and you were the only person I could think of so I asked him. Sorry. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jinki smiled at that, a far cry from minding. “Not at all,” he said, knowing how he must look, broad grin on his face. When he sidled past Taemin to get to his room, he touched a hand to Taemin’s hip and whispered, “Anytime. Have a good night.”

 

 

 

 

Jinki woke up Saturday morning, mouth dry. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and squinted at the alarm clock to his left for the time. 10:24 AM. He swung his legs out of bed, pulling on a shirt. There were voices coming from the kitchen that sounded as if they belonged to Taemin and Kibum, the former laughing and the latter talking cheerfully, though Jinki couldn’t quite make out his words.

He splashed some water on his face in the bathroom, then rinsed his mouth out. He tried valiantly to pull a comb through his hair, before giving up.

“Morning,” he said cautiously, rounding the corner into the kitchen. Taemin and Kibum looked over to him from the stove, where they were making what looked like French toast and bacon.

“Morning!” Kibum chirped—he had the uncanny ability to get as drunk as he wanted the night before and wake up with almost absolutely no hangover, and Jinki hated him for it.

“Morning,” Taemin said, a little more subdued than Kibum, but smiling at Jinki nonetheless.

“I caught him trying to sneak out at 9,” Kibum informed Jinki, tipping the bacon out of his pan.

Taemin spluttered a little. “I wasn’t trying to _sneak out_ ,” he protested. “I just, I mean, I’m causing you enough trouble as it is, I don’t want to impose.”

Kibum fixed him with an almost motherly look. “Yes, yes, but not without breakfast. Jinki, hand me the bread.”

Jinki handed the bread over. “Don’t argue,” he advised Taemin, who had just opened his mouth to reply. “It’s not worth it.”

“Well, fine. Thank you,” Taemin said, a little disgruntled though he looked pleased nonetheless.

Breakfast was pleasant, and Jinki was glad Kibum didn’t make any comments about where the two of them had gone last night, other than raise his eyebrows and jerk his chin over to the futon, on top of which the afghan was folded neatly. When breakfast was over, Taemin helped Jinki clear away the dishes, pouting a little when Jinki just rinsed them and threw them in the dishwasher.

Taemin, who was taking a summer biology class at the university four days a week, left the apartment not long afterwards, thanking both of them profusely. The door had barely closed behind him when Kibum was bearing down on Jinki, pushing him into one of the chairs surrounding their dining table. Jinki half-expected Kibum to tie him up and shine a flashlight in his eyes too, at the rate he was going.

“You,” Kibum said, and poked him in the shoulder. “Tell me _everything_.”

Jinki shrugged and obliged—there wasn’t much to tell, and he could tell Kibum thought the story disappointingly short.

“That’s it?” he asked. He actually looked crestfallen, and Jinki wanted to laugh at just how emotionally invested Kibum clearly was. “Why didn’t you go for it if you knew he would’ve?”

Jinki shifted uncomfortably. He gave a half-hearted excuse about them working together and how awkward it would’ve been if they had. Kibum didn’t look wholly convinced but he let it slide, for which Jinki was grateful.

 

 

 

 

 

Work on Saturdays actually involved actual work, something Taemin experienced for the first time that week. In between exchanging tickets for prizes and retrieving balls from where they’d gotten stuck in hoops, he and Jinki had snatches of conversation—Jinki learned that Taemin became interested in dancing in the fifth grade after he tagged along to a neighbor’s dance class one weekend while his parents were away. His former neighbor no longer danced—she was studying fashion abroad, and he got an email update about her life every once in a while—but he did. It was comforting, he said matter-of-factly, to be able to do something he both loved and at which he was good.

The days passed slowly, as mindless summer days often do. Jinki was a bit dismayed to learn Taemin had Mondays off, which made getting out of bed especially difficult, subjecting him to more than one angry-breathing encounter with Jonghyun. Kibum watched this with increasing amusement, despite the fact that it made him late too—Jonghyun pointed this out irritably one day, and Kibum just shrugged, suggesting coyly that Jonghyun take up yoga. Jonghyun flushed a bright red, and Jinki didn’t even ask—he just chalked it up to the strange flirtation/friendship Jonghyun and Kibum had.

Taemin and Minho eventually struck up a friendship, eventually growing to be better friends than Jinki and Taemin, and it wasn’t without some envy that Jinki watched it happen, even though he knew Minho’s girlfriend quite well, knew their relationship was more than stable, knew Minho was not at all interested in men.

Though Taemin made better friends with Minho, and Kibum was able to be open with his affection with Taemin in a way Jinki could never bring himself to be, he and Taemin remained quietly close in their own way nonetheless. He never stopped being attracted to Taemin, never stopped wondering if maybe he should’ve just gone for it that one time at the club so many weeks ago. Taemin, frustratingly, never made any mention of it, and it seemed that whatever interest had led him to ask Jonghyun for Jinki’s number before Kibum’s or anyone else’s had faded.

“Just go for it. Jesus, Jinki, you’re so hung up on him, it’s killing _me_.” Kibum remained firmly of the opinion that Taemin would be totally open to it, but even Jinki couldn’t explain what exactly it was that was stopping him—he wanted more than just open to it, he wanted Taemin to want it too, just as much as he did.

He always replied noncommittally, Kibum’s insistence easier to avoid once July started and some of their old crowd trickled back into town, back from vacation to work in nearby cafes or restaurants or, if lucky, in research positions at the university. They attended more parties in the safety of apartments rather than clubs, with people who, even if Jinki didn’t know well, at least recognized.

It was a particularly hot Saturday night in the middle of July (drink-until-you-vomit Thursdays had been extended to Fridays and Saturdays once enough of his and Kibum’s friends had returned; Jinki would’ve felt much worse coming into work and facing Jonghyun hungover if he hadn’t just seen Jonghyun in a haze of smoke the night before, one hand passing a piece, the other curled either around a beer or someone’s waist) when Jinki walked, already slightly buzzed, into the apartment of a person he only vaguely knew only to see Taemin in line for the keg in the kitchen.

It took twenty minutes of Kibum hissing at him to go talk to him and two beers for Jinki to work up the courage to stand next to Taemin, who was leaning against the wall with his beer, looking uncomfortable. The relief on his face when Jinki joined him against the wall made Jinki wish he hadn’t needed the twenty minutes or the beer.

“Hey,” Jinki said. “What are you doing here?” He winced almost immediately, hoping it didn’t sound accusatory.

“Hey!” Taemin said enthusiastically, not seeming to notice. “My cousin dragged me here, he said I needed to get out more.” He pulled a face. “I mean, his friends are nice enough but I don’t really know that many people here.”

Jinki nodded, “That’s understandable. What do you usually do with your nights then?”

Taemin looked vaguely embarrassed before admitting, “I break into the dance studios.”

Jinki, caught off guard, choked on his beer. “What—I’m impressed. And you’ve never been caught?”

Taemin looked delighted by Jinki’s approval. “Nope,” he said proudly. “Though there was a scary run-in last week with a security guard.”

Jinki laughed, and their conversation flowed easily from that, though that might’ve been aided by the multiple trips to the keg both of them made. By midnight, the party had reached its height, people walking by jostling them closer and closer until their shoulders were pressed firmly together. When the smoke and the loud music and the beer all added up to make Jinki’s head swim, he pressed closer to Taemin to ask, “Do you want to get out and get some fresh air?”

Taemin considered him for a second before his mouth curled into a smile. “Yeah, sure. It’s getting a little stuffy in here.”

The apartment was on the second floor and latecomers were still coming up as Jinki and Taemin made their way downstairs, some pausing to say hi and bump fists with Jinki. Jinki found himself with a cigarette forced onto him by Jonghyun who, well, who looked like he needed the cigarette taken away. Jinki took a half-hearted drag on it, not particularly liking the acrid taste of cigarette smoke in his mouth. He and Taemin found themselves in the small alley between the apartment building they’d just exited and the next, and he would’ve had to be oblivious or extremely stupid to not know what was coming next.

To his surprise, it wasn’t him who initiated it—Taemin shook his head gently when Jinki offered the cigarette to him, trying to build up a light-hearted rapport. He stepped closer to Jinki than just a friend would, looking determined. Jinki was still feeling lightheaded and wished he wasn’t, fervently hoping he’d remember every bit of this the next morning. He took a nervous drag of the cigarette, feeling like an idiot when he accidentally let out a bit of smoke in Taemin’s face.

“Jesus,” he said. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Whatever he didn’t mean to do Taemin never found out, because suddenly Taemin’s mouth was on his, hesitant but nonetheless there.

Jinki immediately dropped the cigarette, and then stepped on Taemin’s foot.

“Ow,” Taemin murmured, laughing a little breathlessly, but Jinki’s hands had found their way to Taemin’s face already, thumbs settling into the spot before his ears. They kissed desperately, and Jinki felt every line of Taemin’s body pressed to his, one hand at the small of his back and the other cupping the back of his neck.

 _God_ , he thought giddily—he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted it until this moment, Taemin’s hair soft and damp between his fingers, Taemin’s teeth on his bottom lip (Taemin was a biter, Jinki discovered, delighted), the comfortable weight of Taemin’s thighs around his. He was sweating, probably unattractively, but Taemin’s back was against the wall and his arms around Jinki’s neck, trying to pull him closer.

It was the cell phone vibrating in Taemin’s front pocket that forced them apart, both breathing hard and eyes dark. “Hello?” he muttered, biting his swollen lip and stealing glances at Jinki. “What? Oh shit, okay, I’ll be right there.” He clicked the call off, looking frustrated. “Sorry,” he said, sounding like he really, really meant it. “That was my cousin’s friend. He’s really drunk. I have to bring him home.”

“Oh,” Jinki said, the words not processing for a second. He only wanted to be kissing Taemin again, thin shirt crumpling between his fingers. “Oh! I’m sorry, that’s fine. No, definitely go, will he be okay? Will you need any help bringing him home?”

Taemin ran a hand through his hair. “No, I’ll be fine. He lives nearby. Sorry,” he said again, sounding again like he meant it.

“It’s fine,” Jinki said again, though he couldn’t resist running a hand up Taemin’s arm. He was pleased to note Taemin shivered, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment. “I—you should probably go now.”

Taemin sighed again, pushing himself away from the wall. “I should.” He pulled his shirt straight, running a hand through his hair again. “I’ll see you around?” he asked hopefully.

Jinki nodded fervently, before catching himself. “Tomorrow,” he said. “Work, bright and early.”

Taemin laughed, pulling a face before kissing Jinki one last time—a nice surprise Jinki couldn’t help but smile at. His hand lingered on Jinki’s hip as he sidled past him to exist the alleyway, his gait loose as walked up the stairs to disappear through the apartment doors.

 

 

 

 

“It’s going to be fine,” Kibum repeated for the fiftieth time the next morning as they walked into work. “Stop fretting.” He patted Jinki’s shoulder, who had alternated between being excited to see Taemin, remembering the way Taemin’s hand had felt against his hip, and being nervous, worried that maybe Taemin had just been too drunk to be discerning last night. The worry had set in while he waited for Kibum to finish brushing his teeth for the night, Kibum gloating between rinsing and gargling that he’d _told_ Jinki so, and then he’d spent all of breakfast and the trip over grating on Kibum’s nerves with his worry.

“ _God_ , you’re so stupid. I want to kill you, I _told_ you so,” Kibum said, patience running out. “I promise, you’re going to be _fine_.” When Jinki still looked uncertain, Kibum unceremoniously shoved him towards the arcade doors. “Go get ‘em tiger,” winking at him so salaciously Jinki couldn’t help but laugh.

He was thinking about what he would do if Taemin pretended it hadn’t happened (try not to cry, he decided, would be the most honorable plan of action) when he noticed Taemin wasn’t even behind the glass case yet. He was settling into his seat, somehow disappointed, when he caught sight of the origami flower, carefully folded, on the shelf next to his coloring book and colored pencils.

He picked it up gingerly, spinning it a little. He looked around, until he caught sight of Taemin’s red hair in the corner, reaching for the ball that had somehow gotten stuck between the hoop and the headboard. It wasn’t until he gotten the ball free that he turned around, noticing Jinki had arrived. He grinned when he noticed the paper flower in Jinki’s hand, raising his hand in a salute.

 _Good morning,_ he mouthed, clearly acknowledging what had happened, clearly happy.

A feeling rose in Jinki’s chest, his face splitting into a grin to match it. “Good morning,” he replied, not caring if Taemin couldn’t hear it, positive he’d understand nonetheless.


End file.
